Back to Good
by rlturner79
Summary: After the shooting, things start to fall apart…can Martin & Danny figure out a way to make things work? Slash.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: As evidenced by the subject matter, I started this story a while ago but like several other stories it ended up sitting in my "unfinished stories" folder for a while. I've just recently gone back to it & decided it needed finishing! Thankfully my muses decided to help me out._

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**1. Martin**

He wanted to go home. Problem was, home wasn't all that much of a comfort these days. It was like a prison of sorts. He was all alone there. Trapped and useless. But maybe it would feel different now. Now that he'd come back to work and had some sort of purpose again. Of course, after Jack's words that he was adding another agent to the team the useless feeling was rearing its ugly head again.

By the time he finally finished his paperwork it was dark outside and he was fairly miserable. Pain was a factor he refused to consider, had mentally willed himself past it but so late in the day now it was beginning to fight through.

"Hey Martin...are you all right?"

He turned around, wincing as an especially strong jolt of pain ran through him. Danny's voice was soft, his eyes full of a concern Martin didn't want to see. Where had that concern been for the last six weeks? He nodded once and turned around again, slowly making his way to the elevators. "Fine. Good night Danny."

Trust Danny to be persistent and follow after him.

"I heard Jack telling you about adding a new agent," Danny said, looking uncertain in a way Martin had never seen before. Maybe it was just his imagination.

"And?" Martin asked. He didn't want to talk to Danny, not about this. Not about anything really. All he wanted was to go home and sleep. Maybe if he were lucky the world would disappear before he woke up.

Danny frowned slightly and shook his head. "Just...are you okay? Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, tentatively.

Martin pressed the button for the elevator and shook his head. "Nope. Listen Danny, I'm beat so I'll see you tomorrow okay?" he said, knowing his voice was short, almost angry, but he couldn't bring himself to care. When the elevator came, he got on and hit the button for the ground floor, manners forcing him to throw a half hazard "good night" over his shoulder to the other man.

On the short ride down he began seething, Danny's words - Danny's _concern_ - making him furious. He'd been desperate for Danny's concern for weeks and now? Too little, too late. His apology in the hall earlier notwithstanding - an apology Martin had no choice but to accept. How was he supposed to tell Danny how he really felt? Abandoned and unimportant...like he meant nothing to the other man.

By the time he got home, changed and scrounged around in his kitchen cupboards for something to eat - a can of soup - he was feeling predictably melancholy. The sadness left him feeling bitter and angry because he didn't _want_ to feel this way. He hated it. He hated the sadness, the loneliness that was almost crushing at times. He hated the pain that was sometimes impossible and he hated the lingering fear...the nightmares that plagued him no matter what he did.

It was nearing eleven when a loud buzzing startled him from his thoughts. He turned off the TV - the news was depressing anyway - and got up, grimacing in pain as he reached for his cane and slowly made his way to the door. "What?" he snapped as he pressed the button, wondering whom on earth would be coming to visit him now.

"It's Danny, I...I have pizza," he said, voice sounding strangely hopeful.

Martin sighed and shut his eyes, leaning forward until his forehead touched the wall next to the intercom. He wanted to ignore him, to just walk away, crawl into bed and not give Danny a word of explanation. He also wanted to tell him to leave. To leave and not come back. Ever. But something made him hit the buzzer for the door. Maybe he wanted to confront Danny on his seeming abandonment. A small part of him still wanted everything to boil down to some logical explanation he hadn't thought of yet. But judging from Danny's shaky and pathetic apology from earlier in the day, he doubted there was one. Maybe he was just tired of being alone and any company would be welcome. Or maybe he just wanted pizza. Laughing bitterly, he unlocked the door and waited, not willing to sit down and get up again when Danny came to the door. It required too much movement.

When Danny knocked, Martin opened the door and motioned him inside, although he was well aware that his expression was less than inviting. Seeing Danny, a small smile on his face, eyes warm...it made Martin angrier than he already was. And although he was secretly grateful for the pizza, he simmered inwardly as Danny talked - babbling on about things Martin was sure he had no interest in. It didn't help that Danny seemed nervous - thus all the babbling. Martin didn't _care_ about Danny's nervousness or his attempt at making amends, if that's what this was. His hurt ran deep...deep and right alongside all of his fear and loneliness. This wasn't something that Danny could make up with a few smiles, a box of pizza and tentative conversation. It hurt too much.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by, only knew he hadn't said a word and Danny was still talking, the two of them sitting side by side on Martin's couch, the TV on in the background. He turned slightly, facing Danny now and when Danny's eyes met his, he stopped talking. The silence stretched into something awkward and almost painful and Martin began to wonder if he stared long enough that Danny would just leave. Because where part of him wanted to confront him, mostly he just wanted to be left alone. Alone like he'd been for six long weeks now.

"Are you all right?" Danny asked softly. He shifted slightly closer, his hand reaching out, dangerously close, almost touching Martin's own which lay on the back of the couch.

It was that soft, gentle concern that did it...concern Martin could tell was genuine; it just broke everything loose and he snapped. "What, you're worried?" he asked, eyes narrowing, lips twisting into a cruel kind of smile. "Funny that you'd be worried now," he went on. "I mean, I almost died and you couldn't be bothered to come and see me even once. Not once," he said, voice rising, anger heating his words and his cheeks. It was too much to hold back.

"I'm sorry," Danny whispered, looking downward. Martin thoroughly enjoyed the way his eyes had widened, the way, for once, it was _Danny_ who was blushing from embarrassment - shame and guilt even - and lowering his gaze.

"You said that already, this afternoon, and your apology was lame at best," he snapped in response. "Just one time I would've liked for you to have come to see me, called me even! Even after I was home and out of the hospital...still nothing."

"Martin, I--"

"No, you can't possibly have an excuse!" he yelled, sitting up straighter now, hands squeezing tightly into fists. "I almost died," he repeated, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding back his fear. The last thing he wanted was for that fear to color his words, to make his voice shake...he no longer wanted Danny's sympathy. "And you didn't care."

Danny's head snapped up at that, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears. He shook his head, eyes pleading with Martin for something. There was a part of Martin, one that he buried deep down for the moment, that wanted to reach out to him. He could see the way his words were affecting Danny...could see the sorrow in his eyes and that part of him hated it. "I did...I _do_ care Fitz..." he murmured.

"Obviously not much," Martin scoffed, glad when Danny flinched, his anger only intensifying at the use of Danny's nickname for him. He leaned closer to Danny now, cruel smile on his lips again, eyes dark and unyielding. "Do you know what my first words were when I woke up?" he asked.

Danny shook his head, eyes cast downward again.

"I asked about _you_," he said, voice dark, almost a whisper now. "I asked if _you_ were okay, if _you'd_ been shot too. After a while, I started to think that they were lying to me, that you had really died and they didn't want to tell me yet so as not to jeopardize my recovery or something. But you were fine, weren't you?" he sneered. "Just had better things to do than see if I lived or died." He hoped he didn't sound like a spoiled child, but mostly he didn't care. It wasn't as if he were angry at Danny for taking the last cup of coffee or for teasing him about something. No, he felt fully justified in his anger and really, just didn't care what he sounded like. And if Danny only knew what the anger was covering up. The hurt and despair...the feelings that ran so deep and had wounded him in ways he wasn't sure would ever heal. Because Danny meant so much to him, had for such a long time now and although he'd kept that well hidden - even from himself sometimes - it couldn't help surfacing now.

Danny still hadn't said anything and Martin figured it was just as well. He stood up and crossed the room, heading towards the hallway. There wasn't anything more he could say. His anger was all but spent and the rest of his feelings, well...he wasn't going to show any of those to Danny. "I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Lock the door on your way out...if it's not too much trouble," he added, one last barb...childish, he knew, but not caring.

He walked slowly down the hallway, leaning heavily on his cane, wincing at the pain that shot through him. He didn't listen to see when Danny left, just trusted that he would. He took double the recommended dose of Tylenol - not liking the way the prescription pain pills made him feel - pulled on an old t-shirt and climbed into bed, wishing that he'd wake up to something different, something easier than what he was living through now.

He couldn't say if it was minutes or hours later when he felt the bed dip behind him, heard his name being softly whispered. He turned over on his side, eyes widening in surprise upon seeing Danny. Danny in his bed, unexpectedly close, an aching sort of desperation in his eyes. He nearly flinched when Danny ran his fingers up Martin's arm, so soft as they came higher and brushed across his cheek.

"I'm sorry Fitz...so sorry," he repeated softly, leaning closer, his head inches from Martin's own. Too shocked to move, he swallowed hard, watching Danny closely. It was unnerving at best having him this close, having him in his bed, fingers touching him, heat blatant and inviting and all Martin had to do was lean in.

He whimpered softly when Danny kissed him, not sure if it was from pleasure or sadness. Because this was what he had wanted for _so_ long. Danny's arms coming around him as they kissed…their mouths fitting together perfectly, tongues softly exploring, making him lightheaded with the feel of it. Danny's body against his, warm and strong and so very inviting. But it was everything and it was nothing. It was painful and Martin knew, knew without a doubt, that it would only make things worse.

He broke away, reluctantly nonetheless, pulling back so that they weren't touching in any way. He took a few minutes to let his breathing return to normal, to hold himself in check and keep his hands to himself - no matter how much they wanted to reach out and touch Danny's soft skin again. He waited a bit more, convincing himself further that this was so very, very wrong.

"So you're going to make everything better with sex, is that right?" he asked, voice shaking, something he couldn't control no matter how hard he tried. He watched the pain flicker blatantly across Danny's eyes, saw him shake his head. "Just get out Danny...now," he added when Danny made no move to leave. "Go," he pleaded, turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling, forcing his eyes to stay on the same spot.

He felt Danny's hesitance and prayed desperately that he wouldn't protest, that he would just go because Martin couldn't handle anymore. He stayed as still as he could, biting down harshly on his lower lip as Danny slowly got out of bed and made his way towards the bedroom door. Martin felt the other man's eyes on him, knew he was hesitating in the doorway and still he said nothing, continuing to stare at the ceiling. He only released his breath when he heard the apartment door close.

The tears came quickly and strongly then, harsh sobs following as he turned on his side and buried his face in the pillow he hugged tightly to him. Danny's scent lingered there, only making things worse. He cried until he couldn't breathe, until the tears were gone but the sobs continued.

The one thing he'd wanted for years now, was Danny. He'd fallen for Danny so easily, so quickly that he'd never even had a chance to resist. And there had been so many times that were so close but never enough. Nights they'd spent together, strictly as friends, but always with a hint of something else lingering between them. Frustrated, he'd eventually gone out with Sam, trying his best to put all those unresolved feelings behind him. Instead he'd only succeeded in pushing them away for a while, and at the same time he'd lost a little of his closeness with Danny.

But now, to have Danny here with him, kissing him, holding him...when Martin didn't know if it was genuine or just because he felt guilty. It was too much. It hurt even more than Danny's abandonment and he couldn't handle it…it broke his heart.

-----

Martin stayed away after that. He resisted all of Danny's attempts to talk with him, always refused him when he asked him to go out and get food, rarely even talked to him unless it had something to do with a case. He knew Danny was trying – wondered how long before he'd stop – and part of him wanted to give him a chance. But that night lingered in his mind. Martin knew he hadn't given Danny much of a chance to talk, but there had been a few moments and all Danny had done was apologize. He hadn't attempted an explanation, just apology after apology. And then…well the kiss was something else that lingered for Martin, but he refused to let himself think for too long on it.

The kiss had been good. Short, but good. And if he thought about it for too long he always ended up with thoughts he knew would never come to fruition. There were times he looked at Danny and would swear he was able to _feel_ his fingers on his skin, Danny's soft lips against his own. Occasionally he found himself wondering why Danny had done it, if it had been guilt that led him to that kiss, or something more. But he never stayed with those thoughts too long, preferring instead to remain calm, stoic and unfeeling. It was easier. Because if he opened up those wounds again he was afraid he'd never heal.

Not even after he fell and hurt his hip, only aggravating what he'd worked so hard to recover in physical therapy, did he seek anyone out. Not Sam, not Viv…especially not Danny. He saw concern in Danny's eyes that night…concern and fear and it had nearly made him give in. Danny lingered near the ambulance, far enough away that he wasn't hovering, but close nonetheless. Martin glanced over occasionally, frustrated with the paramedics desire to take him to the hospital, when all he really wanted was to go home and sleep. But he always met Danny's eyes and the other man never looked away, something deeper flickering over his face that made Martin's chest tighten.

The pain was somehow sharper this time, and with the return of the pain came the return of his nightmares. They'd let up for a time, only an occasional occurrence, but now they returned in full force, threatening him nightly until he was afraid to go to sleep. The Vicodin was a welcome oblivion at first, taking away the pain in a way nothing else could and relaxing him enough to sleep soundly through the night. They became easier and easier to take, which was why he began popping two at a time. The pills were a comfort where there usually was none. They let him work without the pain, they let him sleep – dreamlessly – and they kept him from feeling alone and scared.

When they'd started becoming a necessity he didn't know, but he wasn't overly concerned. His doctor had prescribed it after all and it wasn't like he couldn't stop taking them any time he wanted to. To prove that exact point he'd thrown them away at the office and had gone about his day.

It wasn't until later, when he started having trouble concentrating on Vivian's words, when his breathing became shallow and shaky did he realize he may have acted hastily. Not that it was a problem, but, looking back, it had been a stupid idea to get rid of the pills in the first place. After all, they made things so much easier so why stop taking them?

A small moment of panic when he realized that the bottle was no longer in his garbage can, but he quickly suppressed the feeling and thought rationally. There seemed to be something _very_ _wrong_ about rooting through the trash to find a bottle of pills but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why he felt that way. Or why he felt the need to glance around and make sure no one was watching him. After all, they were _his_ pills.

A few weeks later he was trembling, sweating and holding a gun. In no instances could he think of that combination being a good idea. But it wasn't his fault, not really. If the pharmacy hadn't been so adamant in not refilling his prescription, he would've had the pills and he could've taken one – or two – before he came to Gina Hill's house.

It wasn't until afterwards that things started to unravel. When he saw himself in her bathroom mirror, dark circles under his eyes, worn out, tired expression – a face he hardly recognized. Sweaty and desperate, he dug through her collection of orange pill bottles, seeking out something familiar and comforting. But it was pure horror he felt as he watched himself take one – unbelieving almost – as he slipped the bottle into his pocket. He went back to the office briefly that night, gathering a few things, feeling that at any second someone was going to accuse him, was going to call him on what he'd done…and why. The telltale heart beating firmly in his pocket. But he made it out of the building without a word from anyone. He stopped, after walking several blocks from work, and opened up the bottle, hands shaking badly as he poured out two pills. He couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to take them. They weren't his, had never been his and he suddenly felt sick. He knew what he was doing, could see clearly for the first time in months, exactly what he was doing.

And it terrified him.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Danny**

He couldn't honestly say it was a date, not really. It was too easy and he certainly didn't care enough for it to be a date. He'd met her through a mutual acquaintance and they were just coming back from dinner, their second time out together, and while a part of Danny felt badly, most of him really just wanted to use her. He wanted sex, plain and simple and she was beautiful and he knew she was willing.

Laughing, the two of them made their way down the hall towards Danny's apartment, arms around each other's waists, an occasional kiss or touch making their progress slow. But Danny came to a sudden and abrupt halt a few feet from his doorway, dropping his arm from her waist and swallowing hard, a sudden and sickening feeling of fear washing over him.

Martin sat, unmoving on the floor in front of his apartment, head resting against his door, eyes closed, legs folded, arms hugging himself. Danny dropped to his knees before him, unsure and unsteady, fear permeating everything. Hands shaking, he reached out and brushed his fingers over Martin's cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as he let his fingers drop to his neck, sighing loudly in relief as he felt Martin's pulse beneath his skin. But the skin was colder than it should be, Danny thought.

He shook Martin gently, hand gripping his shoulder as he sat down next to him, ignoring all questions from his date. "Martin?" he murmured, leaning close, fingers passing through his hair and over the soft skin of his neck. "Wake up," he pleaded softly.

Martin's eyes fluttered open slowly and he blinked a few times, confusion washing over his expression as he met Danny's eyes. "Danny?" he asked. His eyes were cloudy, not completely focused and Danny swallowed hard again, pushing down the fear that was still trying to escape.

"Hey Fitzie," he said softly, voice gentle, eyes kind as he looked into Martin's own, a soft smile on his lips. He couldn't help the way his hands kept moving, in Martin's hair, at the back of his neck, across his shoulders...he needed to keep touching him. Assuring himself that Martin was okay.

"Danny, I..." he trailed off, frowning suddenly, his eyes still not seeing exactly what was before him. His hands gripped weakly to Danny's upper arms and he pulled him closer. "I stole her pills," he mumbled, eyes cast downward shamefully.

Danny frowned and took a deep breath trying to work through what Martin was saying, while a part of him knew very well where this was leading. In the back of his mind he'd been dreading it actually. "Whose pills?" he asked gently.

Martin shook his head, seeming agitated. He let go of Danny and began digging through his pockets, his movements clumsy and frantic. "Here," he murmured, relief settling over his features as he finally found what he was looking for. He pushed a small orange pill bottle into Danny's hands, sighing and leaning back against the door again, his eyes falling shut. "Gina Hill," he added, voice trembling again.

Danny glanced down at the empty prescription pill bottle in his hand, eyes scanning the label and finding not only Gina Hill's name but also the high dosage for Vicodin. He bit his bottom lip and looked up at Martin's face, hating the way his heart wouldn't stop aching. He was scared.

"I...Danny, I took them from her house," he said slowly, opening his eyes, cloudy but still bright blue, frightened and uncertain. "They're not mine," he added, an edge of panic starting to creep into his voice. "I...don't know how to stop." His blue eyes filled with tears, spilling over when he looked down. Danny was seconds from breaking. He wanted to gather Martin up into his arms and take him away, because this never should have happened. Not to Martin. Of all people, not Martin...lying here broken and scared, addicted to painkillers and so very, very alone. "I came here because...I need someone to h-help me and I thought that you might..." he trailed off, seeming uncertain. Eyes blinked and he leaned closer, something Danny couldn't resist. He pulled Martin into his embrace, biting down on his lower lip as he felt the other man collapse against him. "I wasn't sure though because...I'm sorry for...for the way I've treated you. But then you weren't home," he went on, babbling, words melting together in a way Danny had never heard from him before. "And I didn't know where else to go...so I waited…"

"Shh," he murmured, hands running up and down Martin's back, lips against his cheek as he soothed him. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "I deserved all of that, but let's not worry about it now, okay Fitz?" he asked, pulling back slightly and looking into Martin's eyes. Gently, he wiped away the tears on his face, unable to help leaning forward and kissing his forehead. "We can talk about it all soon, I promise. But for right now...can you stand up?" he asked softly. Martin nodded, his eyes full of a trust Danny wasn't sure he deserved. "Ok then, let's go inside."

Carefully, Danny helped Martin to his feet, noting with some trepidation the way Martin seemed to be so unsteady, the way he leaned against Danny for support. Once inside Danny led him to the couch, becoming more and more nervous and worried by the second as he noticed how sleepy Martin seemed, the way his eyes kept wanting to fall shut. Softly, he told Martin he'd be right back to which he received half a nod as Martin closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.

He walked into the kitchen, trailed closely behind by Stacey, his date. He quickly noticed her agitation and obvious curiosity but he was more concerned with what to do with Martin.

"Danny..."

"Look, I'm sorry Stacey, but I have to take care of him right now and--"

She put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "I understand that Danny. He needs to go to the hospital," she added, a worried expression on her face. He nodded, turning suddenly when he remembered. She was a nurse. His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand, pulling her into the living room with him. He sat down next to Martin, gently touching his face again.

"Fitzie?" he murmured, fingers shaking a bit as he passed them through Martin's hair. Slowly, Martin opened his eyes, head turning a bit to look at Danny. He smiled softly and shut his eyes to which Danny shook him gently and called his name again. "Martin...I need to ask you something," he said, forcing himself to stay calm, to not let his voice tremble.

Stacey knelt down in front of Martin and leaned closer, pressing her fingers to his wrist, eyes watching the clock on the wall behind him. After a minute she looked up sharply at Danny and stood up. "Danny...I don't know how much he's taken, but he needs to go to the hospital. His pulse is too slow," she said briskly, suddenly seeming very professional. Not at all the easy, one night stand he'd had the impression of earlier.

"Martin?" Danny called again, sounding more frantic now. He shook him gently, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, smiling when Martin opened his eyes again. "Martin look at me, please?" he asked, nodding when the other man did. "How many pills did you take?" he asked, keeping his voice purposely soft, gentle. He was seconds from panicking even though he knew it wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all Martin. But this never should have happened. Logically he knew it wasn't his fault, but he was wholeheartedly blaming himself for Martin's addiction. There were so many things that he could have done differently but hadn't and he was constantly asking himself "what if"...no more than at this moment.

Martin frowned and shook his head, leaning into Danny. "Don't know," he mumbled. "I'm tired Danny," he added.

Danny nodded, hands on Martin's shoulders now, forcing him to sit up straight. "I know you are Fitz, but I need you to stay awake for a little bit longer, okay?" he asked, fingers brushing gently over Martin's jaw, his neck. "We need to take you to the hospital."

Martin shook his head adamantly, his body tensing, agitated. "No Danny," he pleaded. "No hospitals." Danny bit his lower lip and shut his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. The sadness he heard in Martin's voice, the _fear_...it only took him back to the shooting and it was almost too much.

"We have to Martin," he murmured, already pulling Martin towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I promise I won't leave you," he went on. "I'll stay with you this time...please." He was close to begging. Either that or forcefully pulling Martin up and dragging him downstairs.

But Martin was silent for a few moments more before mumbling an agreement, hand coming to grip Danny's arm for a second before he stood up. "Danny..." he said, sounding panicked. "No ambulances," he said, eyes wide for the first time all night.

Danny swallowed hard, wondering exactly what it was Martin was remembering, and then he nodded. "All right Fitz...no ambulances."

-----

Danny shut his eyes and leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands, unable to stop the doctor's words from echoing painfully in his head. _Overdose, detox, counseling, rehab... _Words he had wanted to stay far away from for the rest of his life. But now it was happening to Martin and Danny felt wholly responsible for how far his friend had fallen.

_Friend..._ He shook his head at that too, not sure if the word even applied anymore. Nor could he stop the stab of longing he'd always felt where Martin was concerned. The longing that wanted them to be _more_ than friends. He stood up and crossed the hall, looking through the window into Martin's room. He was unable to take his eyes off of the other man, watching to make sure his chest continued to rise and fall. Shivering, Danny hugged himself tightly, biting down on his lip as he let his eyes drift to the machines that Martin was hooked up to. He hated them. Hated every beep and light and knob and number. He'd hated them last time too and that was part of what had kept him from crossing the threshold into the other man's room then. But now, he knew there wasn't a choice, and this time, Martin wasn't unconscious.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him and took a deep breath, swallowing nervously as Martin turned his head, blue eyes weary as they met his. Danny tried smiling and knew it was a poor imitation, but he didn't look away, crossing the room instead to sit in the chair at Martin's bedside.

"Hey Fitz," he murmured, so unsure of where they stood that he couldn't decide if he should reach out and take Martin's hand or not. He wanted to. Wanted to provide some sort of comfort, but he had no idea if Martin would want to be touched just yet. Or at all.

But Martin reached out to him, searching for his hand, eyes locked on Danny's, full of a desperation Danny knew too well. Eagerly, he took Martin's hand in his and squeezed gently, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Jesus Martin...you scared me," he whispered, struggling to hold in the feelings that were all too anxious to escape.

Martin shook his head and grasped tighter to Danny's hand. He seemed to struggle with something he wanted to say but in the end said nothing, turning slightly onto his side, careful of the IV and whatever else it was that he was hooked up to. Blue eyes continued to stare at Danny, pleading almost, full of fear that Danny knew was easier to keep inside than to actually admit to. And Danny felt helpless as he watched those eyes fill with tears and then close. He reached out and closed his other hand over the one of Martin's that he already held, leaning forward slightly and just watching as Martin fell asleep again. He fell asleep himself a few hours later, making sure to continue holding Martin's hand in one of his own.

Uncomfortable and stiff, he awoke to the uncanny feeling of someone watching him. Opening his eyes he met Martin's gaze and again attempted a small smile. It was early morning, something he could tell from the dim light that was starting to creep in through the window. He stretched his hands over his head, turning his head from side to side, trying to loosen his limbs.

"You don't have to stay here every minute Danny," Martin murmured. Danny raised an eyebrow, surprised when he looked down and saw a small smile on Martin's face. Danny shook his head and looked down, not sure how to respond. But Martin continued on before he could even think of something to say. "They told me that they…had to pump my stomach because I'd…I'd OD'd," he said softly, voice carefully void of emotion. "That I was…well, any longer and it would've been much worse." He stopped, eyes looking away. Danny watched him closely, his words cutting through him like knives they hurt so badly. But Danny knew Martin had to say them out loud, because letting them simmer inside was worse. It would only build his fear into panic and it wouldn't be long before he broke again.

"They also said that today they want to…well there's some sort of rapid detox where they put you under anesthesia and flush out all of the…drugs," he murmured.

"And then?" Danny asked, sounding slightly skeptical. He remembered well the crushing pain of his own withdrawal and while he didn't want Martin to go through that by any means, he knew it had served to make him stronger in some way. To make his resolve to stay away from alcohol into something more. A physical and emotional memory of a hellish pain he never wanted to experience again.

"Counseling and check ups and…" he trailed off waving his hand to indicate whatever else it was that the doctors had told him. Danny knew though and he intended to make sure it was followed through…even though he also knew, quite well, that it was _Martin's_ sole responsibility to make sure he got well.

"Would you do something for me?" Martin asked after a few moments, his voice sounding timid again.

Danny looked up, nodding. "Anything," he responded quietly.

"Be here after they put me through detox," he whispered fearfully.

"Of course," Danny replied, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat. It was almost too much; this was never supposed to have happened to Martin. "And anything else you need Fitz," he added.

Martin sighed, looking away. "I don't understand how this happened Danny," he murmured, eyes still focused on the window. "I mean, I know _how_ but...it was like I lost all of my common sense, my conscience, and something blocked me from seeing what was happening. Everything I did to get more Vicodin seemed justified to me; I never questioned it. Until yesterday when I saw myself in Gina Hill's mirror...stealing her pills," he stopped abruptly, voice dry, pained by the admittance. He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered. "I wanted to throw them away then," he went on, eyes still closed. Danny reached out and took his hand again, feeling Martin's gratefulness from the way he squeezed Danny's fingers. "But I...couldn't," he said softly. "And when I took them I just...I finally knew, finally understood what had happened, but I...I took them anyway!" he said, voice shaking, sounding surprised.

There was nothing Danny could say because he knew it all so well. Knew exactly what Martin was feeling – his frustration, his confusion, his fear. It was all so familiar, and a part of Danny wanted to run. Because watching Martin go through all of this brought his own addiction right back to the forefront of his mind. But he couldn't abandon Martin now. Not this time.

The silence that lingered was comfortable in some ways, letting them both think, wondering where to go next. When Danny left a few hours later he still felt guilty and alone and his thoughts were only for Martin. He didn't go far, stepping outside for a while to walk the blocks around the hospital, wanting the fresh air and the chance to briefly escape its walls. He wondered over how everything would change now. Wondered over Martin's recovery, Martin's well-being…his own peace of mind and whatever the hell it was that happened next.

When he came back, hours later, Martin was asleep, past his rapid-detox procedure and looking strangely pale. Danny trailed his fingertips lightly down Martin's cheek, shivering at the sensation of soft, warm skin. He resumed his place at the other man's bedside after gazing at him for a few moments. Back in the uncomfortable chair, back to glancing from Martin's sleeping form to the muted TV mounted on the wall. Back to gripping Martin's fingers and wondering how to be there.

-----

Without being asked, Danny went back to Martin's apartment with him when he was discharged from the hospital. It was easier to not ask…because Danny knew Martin well enough to know that he'd never request Danny to come with him. And he was certain that Martin would just decline if Danny asked. So he took him home, ordered them both takeout, tried to help without hovering. But he could see the look in Martin's eyes and he couldn't ignore it. He was lost now, confused and scared. Danny knew this situation so well, could remember exactly what it felt like, and he _hated_ that Martin was there now. It was exhausting, frightening and so maddeningly beyond his control. When Martin asked him to stay for the night Danny was not surprised that he didn't want to be alone, but he _was _surprised that he had asked.

He nodded, watching him closely for just a moment, not wanting his scrutiny to be noticed. He agreed softly, making some comment about Martin's couch being more than comfortable for him. And Martin smiled weakly, thanking him softly. It was difficult, but Danny resisted the urge to pull him into his arms. He wanted to hold Martin close and soothe him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay – even though he knew how impossible that promise was. Instead he forced himself to give Martin space, desperately hoping that the other man would come to him when he needed it most and not shut him out to preserve his pride.

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Martin**

He wondered when he'd stop feeling so tired, so drained of energy. He'd slept for a good eight hours, maybe more – which was certainly a rarity for him – but he didn't feel rested at all. He felt tired, and not just physically. So much had happened, and so quickly it seemed, although he'd been leading up to this point for quite a while now. But it was only a week ago that he had been slumped on the floor in front of Danny's apartment well on his way to a drug overdose.

It was terrifying if he thought about it for too long.

Unfortunately, he had to think about it. Had to think about recovering, about getting more help and moving on with his life. Although, it was more than daunting to realize that he'd forever be labeled an addict now. There was a very big part of him that just wanted to run away. To leave behind everyone and everything he knew and escape, see where he ended up if he was completely on his own. However, he was pretty certain that wouldn't be a good place. Despite his pride, his need to prove that he could stand on his own two feet, he needed help. For once in his life, he realized that he couldn't do everything by himself.

And somehow, somewhere along the way he'd gotten Danny.

Yawning softly, he forced himself to sit up, pushing the blankets off of his legs and stretching his arms over his head. He could hear Danny in the living room, muttering about not being able to find his keys. Softly, Martin padded across his bedroom floor, grabbing a t-shirt from the foot of his bed and pulling it on as he walked into the hallway. He made a stop in the bathroom, smiling to himself as he saw Danny's missing keys lying on the sink.

"Looking for these?"

Danny spun around quickly, nearly tripping over his feet. "You scared me!" he exclaimed, his wide-eyed expression changing to a smirk as Martin tossed him the keys. Within moments, his expression changed again, a concerned look flitting across his features. Martin had to wonder how he switched thoughts and feelings so quickly. "Did I wake you?" he asked softly.

Martin shook his head and walked into the adjoining kitchen; eager for some of the coffee he smelled brewing. He'd expected Danny's concern to become annoying after a few days, but here it was a week later and Danny was still staying with him, still worrying about him, and still being a tremendous comfort. He wondered how long they could go on this way without talking though. Not that they hadn't talked, because they had. About many things. Things Martin wasn't sure he'd be able to open up about. But they'd never really said a word about the fact that Danny had become a somewhat permanent fixture on Martin's couch, in Martin's apartment…every night.

He thought back to the day after he'd come home from the hospital. How nervous he'd been to tell Danny what he needed most. A break. Time off. And he needed – and wanted – Danny to go with him when he talked to Jack.

_"I need a break Danny," he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into. Danny's eyes were full of understanding and Martin shifted closer to him unconsciously. "I need to take some time off to recover and just…" he trailed off, biting down on his lower lip and looking away. "I can't do both," he whispered. "I can't get better and work there at the same time."_

_He didn't expect Danny's hand on his arm, and when he looked up and met Danny's eyes again he felt a lump forming in his throat. Danny was smiling softly, eyes warm, nothing but sympathy and acceptance in his eyes. "What do you need me to do?" he asked softly after a few moments._

_Martin shook his head, turning away and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He couldn't say anything yet, was terrified to speak because he knew his voice would break, and _damn_ if this wasn't hard. He wasn't quite sure how to ask, how to lean on Danny and let him help. But underneath it all, he knew Danny understood what he was going through. After a few minutes, he turned to face him again, forced himself to move closer and when Danny reached out for him, Martin returned his embrace without a second thought. He let Danny hold him. Just shut his eyes and let himself feel safe in Danny's arms._

_"Will you come with me?" he asked softly, his head resting against Danny's shoulder. "To talk to Jack?"_

_"Course I will," Danny answered, pulling Martin just a little closer._

_They sat that way for a long time, and for the first time since he'd figured out his addiction, he felt safe. He felt like maybe, possibly…things would get better._

Things were still difficult though. But Danny was more help than Martin thought he realized. The time off was good for him also, even if the first few days had been unnerving. He wasn't used to having time to himself with nothing to do. Well, _nothing_ wasn't exactly the right word…

He spent a lot of that time convincing himself that he didn't need any Vicodin. Also, he took the initiative to call the hospital, to set up a follow up appointment. That was easy because he understood and accepted the wisdom of checking on his physical symptoms. It was infinitely harder, however, to call the counselor that he'd been referred to and to make an appointment to see her. Also tough had been finding an NA meeting to attend – something Danny had offered to go to with him if he wanted it. And Martin did want that. Going would be difficult enough and while part of him wanted to go alone, to indeed remain _anonymous_, he wanted Danny's support more.

Martin leaned against the counter between his kitchen and living room, sipping his coffee and watching Danny put on his tie. His stomach fluttered as his eyes followed Danny's fingers – nimble, elegant almost – move over the fabric, adjusting it at his neck. He forced himself to look away after a few moments, not wanting to get caught staring.

And that was something else they hadn't talked about. Their attraction to one another. The relationship that was more than simple friendship but not quite anything more. It was frustrating as hell, but so much easier to go on pretending it wasn't there. So many barriers, obstacles…Martin was positive that it would never work. Even though he could still replay their only kiss in his head with perfect clarity as if it had happened minutes ago instead of months. And never mind the fact that two nights ago he'd ended up sleeping in Danny's arms after a nightmare that had left him practically paralyzed with fear.

"_Martin."_

_The voice seemed far away, small…no one could possibly be calling him. It was too dark for anyone else to be here. He was lost, cold…terrified. And there was nothing around him…nothing but a terrible, inky black darkness. He wanted to scream, but he could barely breathe; the darkness was suffocating. Paralyzing._

"_Fitzie, please wake up…"_

_The voice was louder now. Familiar too. But he didn't trust it, didn't trust anything. How could he? There was nothing but darkness._

"_Martin!"_

_He opened his eyes, awakening with a start, dim light causing him to blink several times. He was cold, sweaty; his breathing was irregular and the fear from the dream lingered, making him wonder if he were truly awake. But as orientation returned, he was finally able to focus on Danny. Danny, whose eyes were worried, frightened almost, peering down at him nervously. And he was so close. Sitting next to him in bed, hands on Martin's shoulders…warm, strong._

"_Danny…" he murmured, voice trembling._

"_You wouldn't wake up," Danny said, fear evident in his soft voice. He paused, blinking several times, hands moving gently over Martin's arms, heat seeping into Martin's skin through his thin t-shirt. "Are you okay?"_

_And God how he wanted to say yes – to lie – to tell Danny that he was fine and it had just been a nightmare and shake it off. But he couldn't. Because he was still afraid, even now when he was awake, not alone, safe with Danny…he was still panicked, fearful. And worst of all, he didn't really know why. There wasn't a single, exact reason that he could pin down; it was just a combination of everything. The same kind of nightmare he used to have right after the shooting…but amplified somehow now…probably because of the addiction._

_He shook his head, staring up at Danny with pleading eyes, unable to voice a reply. When Danny lied down next to him, Martin started to tremble. A part of him wanted to cry, but his tears wouldn't come. He let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him as Danny pulled him into his arms. Warmer now…he felt the fear start to dissolve as he curled closer to Danny, burying his face against his neck and shutting his eyes. Danny held him tightly with strong arms, hands rubbing slow circles over his back. While a part of Martin wanted to resist, to maintain the distance that they had imposed with each other for such a long time, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He fell asleep a while later, feeling safe in Danny's arms…_

"Martin?"

Martin shook his head, forced himself out of his memories. He blushed slightly as he looked up and met Danny's eyes. "Sorry…tired," he muttered.

Danny smirked, pulling on his coat and grabbing his bag. "Uh huh," he answered. "Do you want me to bring something home for dinner?" he asked, double-checking his bag to make sure he still had the previously-missing keys.

"If you get a chance," Martin replied lightly, trying his best to ignore the way Danny referred to Martin's apartment as _home_. Martin felt his heart ache, wishing – not for the first time – that it meant more than a simple word. Danny looked up again, smiled as he walked down the hall and called out his goodbye.

"Bye Danny." A pause. "Be safe," he added softly after Danny had already left.

-----

He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down to read a book. Upon complaining to Danny that he was bored and had nothing to do with his time off, Danny had risen an eyebrow suspiciously, stared at Martin for the longest time and then shook his head.

"_So read a book."_

Martin hadn't answered him at the time knowing there was much more behind his gaze. _Recovering from a drug overdose_ hardly qualified as nothing to do. Martin also had the distinct impression that Danny would probably hold him captive or something equally extreme if he tried going back to work before he was truly ready.

The book he'd chosen was something easy – a sale-priced paperback about a murder-mystery. Simple, raunchy, entertaining. It was relaxing and, although he'd never admit it, he _liked_ it.

It was around four thirty when a knock on the door startled him from the book. Frowning, he slipped his bookmark between the pages, reluctant to leave the story but curious about whom might be at the door. Quickly, he glanced through the peephole, and then paused. He'd been expecting this, had been waiting, knowing it would happen sooner rather than later.

It was his father.

And Martin had known since the moment he'd talked to Jack about taking a leave of absence that his father would find out. But he hadn't been strong enough to tell him on his own, and honestly, he wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it with him now.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked and opened the door, his stomach fluttering nervously. "Hi dad."

"Martin," Victor replied, no real emotion in his voice. But his expression was strangely subdued, curious…even worried.

"Do you want something to eat? Drink?" Martin asked as he led his father into the living room.

"No thanks," Victor answered, glancing around the room as if he had never seen it before. Martin waited, biting down on his lower lip and watching his father closely. He seemed at a loss for words, something Martin couldn't recall ever seeing before.

"I assume you know why I'm here?" Victor asked finally.

Martin nodded, motioning for his dad to sit down in one of his chairs. He was surprised by the lack of disappointment he heard in his father's voice. It was something…different. "I knew you'd find out," he replied softly, sitting down on the couch and facing him. "I just…I couldn't tell you then…"

"Couldn't tell me what?" Victor asked, frowning. "Both you and Agent Malone failed to indicate the exact reason as to why you needed a leave of absence on the form you filled out."

And Martin nearly smiled at the way he sneered over Jack's name…_that_ was much more like his dad. But something was still very…off. There was a certain concern in his father's eyes that Martin had never seen before. It threw him, and he couldn't seem to answer. If he told the truth, he was afraid that concern would turn to its normal disappointment and exasperation.

"Are you sick?" Victor asked after several moments of silence. His voice was strained, nervous almost.

Martin looked up sharply, shaking his head at the genuine concern he saw in his father's eyes. Understanding dawned. "No," he choked out. "I'm not…well, no. I…I don't have cancer or anything if that's what you mean," he said, frustrated. He saw relief flash in Victor's eyes before he schooled his features quickly back to neutral. It made Martin angry…yet he wasn't sure why. The worry he'd heard in his father's voice, the concern he'd seen there…it had been real. But was that only because Victor assumed him to be dying of some terminal illness? It wasn't enough to just be worried…it had to be something deathly serious. Otherwise, it must not matter.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

And again Martin was taken off guard, because the worry was back. Yes, Victor had looked relieved when Martin had said he wasn't sick, but now he seemed concerned again. Frowning, he sighed and ran his hand over his eyes and his forehead, trying to figure things out. He just wasn't used to dealing with this side of his father. Hadn't even known this side existed.

"You really want to know?" Martin asked softly.

Victor nodded, looking slightly exasperated. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Martin shut his eyes for a moment and nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to retort an angry response. Mainly because arguing was normally his first instinct where his father was concerned. But he was tired, and he just didn't have it in him to argue right now.

"I…I hurt my hip a while ago…I fell," he started, wondering if his father already knew. "It was fine but…painful. And it just got away from me and I ended up…I…was addicted to painkillers. _Am_ addicted. I overdosed on them…I was in the hospital…and now I'm…recovering. Or trying to. But I couldn't get better and…work at the same time," he finished, words choppy, his voice hoarse. Admitting his problem – to his father of all people – was still hard. Sometimes, it seemed even more difficult than the actual recovery.

Victor didn't say anything right away, and that Martin had expected. But he looked at his father carefully, and the stony, resigned silence he had anticipated wasn't there. Instead, he still looked worried…understanding even. And _that_ Martin found very difficult to trust.

The silence stretched on, well on its way to becoming painful and Martin wondered how long the two of them could sit there without saying anything. They were both incredibly stubborn after all. But he wasn't in the mood to play their usual game.

"You haven't said anything," he remarked. His father cleared his throat, shook his head and looked away from Martin's curious eyes. Martin couldn't remember ever seeing his father look so flustered; it was rather unnerving. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry Martin, this is just…"

"Unexpected?" Martin finished for him, a sad sort of smile flitting across his face. "I know. No one was more surprised than me."

"You're all right?" he asked tentatively, that unsettling look of worry in his eyes again.

Martin shook his head, nearly laughing at the question. "No. Not in the least," he answered honestly. He paused for a moment and sighed. "But I'm…getting better," he added softly.

Victor nodded, both of them lapsing into silence again. Martin watched, seeing his father glance around the room, his eyes lingering here and there, and after a few moments, Martin could almost predict his next question.

"Is someone staying here with you?" he asked curiously, a little bit of the familiar patronizing attitude back in his voice. "Helping you…?"

And Martin was strangely comforted by this change in manner, because this was normal and expected, and this he knew how to deal with. Sighing, he nodded; knew there was no point in lying…Danny had random things lying all over the living room. "Danny is," he answered. "He's…an alcoholic. He understands," he added, trying to make it sound logical, simple. He didn't think mentioning the fact that he was pretty sure he was at least partially in love with Danny would go over well with his father. Although Martin had to wonder if his father already knew that he was gay. Over the years he'd stopped trying to hide it, never really admitting it to either of his parents, but no longer actively trying to keep it a secret.

However, if he did know he didn't press the issue, didn't ask any questions…and Martin was just as glad because he really didn't want to talk about it. At least not now. "Does mom know?" he asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Danny.

Victor shook his head. "I haven't told her yet…didn't want to worry her. But I'll tell her when I go home, unless…Martin, I think she'd appreciate it if you told her yourself."

Martin nodded and ran his hand over his eyes, feeling guilty all of the sudden. He probably should have called already. But telling her that he was taking a leave of absence, that he was a drug addict…if he had told her, he'd have to tell his father, and he just hadn't been ready for that. "I will. I'll call her," he said softly.

Sighing, he looked up as they settled into yet another uncomfortable silence, something Martin was beginning to be quite annoyed by. "Are you staying in town long?"

"Are you still offering something to eat?" Victor asked at the same time.

Martin smiled wearily and nodded. "Sure."

They settled into something easy after that. Martin cooked hamburgers and French fries for dinner, which they ate in the living room while watching a football game on TV. It was easy because it required a minimal amount of talking. By the time it was over, Martin was exhausted – his energy level still quite low – and he said goodnight and goodbye to his father before climbing into bed, asking his dad to lock the door before he left. He was still going over the entire evening in his head by the time he fell asleep. He was just thankful that his dad was going to leave before Danny got back from work.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Danny**

He stood in the bedroom doorway for the longest time, watching Martin sleep. He'd gotten back to the apartment later than he'd expected – the result of several breaks in their case that had come late in the day. By the time he'd left the office it was well past nine. He hadn't bothered to call Martin and let him know that he wouldn't be bringing any food back. He knew Martin would understand his being late, and as far as the food went…he was pretty sure Martin would find something to eat on his own. Seeing how Martin was almost constantly hungry.

What he hadn't expected was coming back to the apartment to find Martin already asleep…and Victor Fitzgerald in the living room watching television. Surprised hadn't even begun to cover it. Not that he hadn't anticipated Victor finding out about Martin's leave of absence, but he _hadn't_ expected him to show up at Martin's apartment.

Sighing, Danny slowly crossed Martin's bedroom and tentatively sat on the edge of his bed, continuing to watch the other man sleep. Danny wondered how long they could go on this way – ignoring so much that was important. He knew his presence helped Martin. He knew Martin didn't want to be alone right now, and Danny was more than happy to stay, to help in any way he could. But there was so much more going on…things that they were doing a very good job of ignoring.

Their feelings for each other. The fact that up until the night that Danny had found Martin collapsed on his doorstep they'd barely been speaking. Ultimately, Danny knew, it was the _reason_ for their not talking that was the most dangerous. He knew it had the potential to come up at any time…vicious, looming…worst of all; he knew it was his fault. Not visiting Martin in the hospital after his shooting, his blundered attempt at an apology…the fact that he'd never even tried to explain _why_. And lastly…the single kiss they'd shared. Tainted because it had been born out of Danny's guilt and sorrow.

He shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the kiss, forgetting his own desperation behind it…but he could so clearly recall the feel of Martin's lips on his, the way he tasted, the softness of his skin. Shivering slightly, Danny opened his eyes and bit down on his lower lip, stifling a whimper. So hard to resist – and he didn't – shifting closer to Martin's sleeping form. Very cautiously, so as not to wake him, he reached out and brushed his fingers over Martin's cheek. Trembling, he touched Martin's hair and neck, a feather-light touch that wracked Danny with chills and left him strangely overwhelmed. He pulled back quickly when Martin stirred, unable to escape before his eyes opened.

"Danny?" he asked softly, yawning slightly, looking up at Danny curiously.

"I'm…I'm sorry Martin," Danny murmured, blushing; he couldn't believe he'd been caught. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Martin yawned and shook his head, his eyes sleepy and soft. "S'ok," he replied. "What's up?"

Danny shook his head. "Nothing, I just…" he paused. "Go back to sleep…we can talk in the morning," he said, forcing a smile and sliding slowly off the bed.

But Martin caught his wrist and held him still. "Stay," he murmured when Danny looked into his eyes.

Danny swallowed hard, part of him desperate to say no, to escape because this had the potential to be all kinds of dangerous. But then Martin's fingers moved slowly over his wrist sending shivers through Danny, and he couldn't resist. He lay down on his side; careful not to get too close, though his body remembered well what it felt like to have Martin in his arms.

They were quiet for a while, eyes locked as they lay side by side. Danny was the first to look away, eyes flitting to a random spot on the wall behind Martin's head. "I talked to your father," he said abruptly.

And that got Martin's attention. Snapped him out of his semi-awake state, and took away that soft, open look in his eyes. Danny was regretful, but felt infinitely better about them not making a stupid mistake now.

"I…I thought he left," Martin answered tensely. "When I went to sleep…"

"That's why he stayed…didn't want you to be alone while you were sleeping," Danny whispered. While the embarrassed words had made Victor seem more human in Danny's eyes, Martin simply scowled and huffed impatiently.

"What else did you talk about?" Martin asked sulkily.

"You don't have to pout about it," he teased. He was currently fighting the very strong urge to lean closer and kiss the frown off of Martin's lips.

"I'm not pouting!" Martin argued.

Danny tried – and failed – to hide his smile, to which Martin only scowled further. "Okay, okay…whatever you say," he said, grinning. "But, we didn't talk about…much," Danny went on, voice more serious again.

"Danny…"

"It was weird Martin," he admitted. "I mean, I hardly know your father very well. But when I walked in and found him here I…well, first I expected him to flip out. I could think up all sorts of scenarios…like it was my bad influence that led you to where you are now or…I don't know, something like that," he said, slightly unnerved by the way Martin was watching him so closely. "But Fitz he just seemed to…I don't know…he was genuinely worried about you."

Martin looked away for a few moments before meeting Danny's eyes again. "I know," he replied. "I felt that way too…when I told him what happened. I was expecting…disappointment."

"He's your father Martin…he's going to be worried," Danny murmured.

"Don't," Martin retorted quickly, his eyes flashing with something Danny couldn't quite identify. "Just…don't. Please…" The heat in his voice quickly faded into weariness, and Danny reached out before he could stop himself, fingers trailing down Martin's arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"I'm sorry."

Martin shook his head. "It's okay. What else did you talk about?" he asked softly, shifting closer to Danny, unconsciously it seemed.

"Not much…basically he just asked how you were doing. And how long I'd been staying here."

Martin frowned. "Why did he want to know that?"

Danny shrugged, his thumb moving gently over Martin's hand. "A lead in to his next question maybe…" he trailed off, waiting. They were closer now, practically pressed together, their hands clasped, and Danny was incredibly nervous.

"What question?" Martin asked after a few moments when Danny didn't continue.

He didn't want to tell him; it was as simple as that. Because he wasn't at all sure what it would lead to. But he couldn't just not answer, couldn't even lie for that matter. Martin would know.

He met Martin's eyes again, struck by how blue they were, how close he was. "He asked if you and I are lovers."

Martin's eyes widened for a moment before he quickly looked away. Danny squeezed his hand and he felt Martin shudder. Martin moved closer and Danny was beginning to find it difficult to breathe. They were so close, nearly touching, and Danny wanted Martin in his arms.

Compared to the night Danny had held him following a nightmare, this was different. Despite their feelings and the state of their relationship, that night had been a platonic sort of comfort that had been easy for Danny to give. But now…the air between them crackled with electricity and an unspoken want that had been there for far too long.

"What did you say?" Martin asked roughly.

His breath was warm, fanning out over Danny's skin, making it impossible to resist anymore. He let go of Martin's hand and brought it to his face, cupping his cheek in his hand. Martin's eyes were full of anticipation and need and Danny couldn't help himself, couldn't find a single reason – and he knew there were plenty – to _not_ do this. He brought their lips together in a soft kiss. Sighing, Danny slid his fingers into Martin's hair, pulling him closer as they kissed. Soft, slow at first, as if they had done this so many times before. Martin's lips were soft, damp, parting shyly as Danny's fingers pressed into the back of his neck. And _God_, for all the times he'd fantasized and thought back on that one, single kiss, it was nothing compared to this.

Danny took his time, tongue searching out every crevice of Martin's mouth, tasting him, wanting more with every second that passed. And Martin's arms came around him slowly, pulling him closer. He whimpered softly, low in the back of his throat, a sound that sent shivers through Danny…made him _weak_.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathing heavily, blue eyes locked on brown, full of lust and…_more_; lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. Danny wanted more, wanted _everything_. But he forced himself to pause – not to stop – and finish their conversation first. He had the distinct feeling that it was very important.

"I told him the truth," he murmured, brushing the back of his knuckles over Martin's cheek.

"I don't know what that is," Martin admitted softly, a tremor in his voice.

Danny smiled softly and nodded as he lowered his eyes. That was exactly how he felt…he had no idea what the truth really was. What their relationship really was. "I know," he answered after a few moments. "Neither do I."

Martin looked surprised. "But what did you tell him?"

"I told him no," Danny replied simply as if it were that easy. His heart ached, wishing it were different. "But I…well, he looked at me for a few moments as if he didn't believe me," he added. And it was true. After Danny had gotten over the shock of being asked that particular question by Martin's father and had answered…he had become quite uncomfortable under the older man's scrutiny. He'd had the feeling that Victor almost knew something that he didn't.

"Did he say anything else?" Martin asked after a few minutes. He seemed lost, unsure how to continue this conversation, and Danny wanted nothing more than to take away that sad look in his eyes.

Danny cupped Martin's face in his hands and shifted closer. "No."

"I wish the answer to his question was yes," Danny admitted after a few moments, his voice soft, uncertain because he knew this had the potential to end badly. But he met Martin's eyes steadily, watching as they widened and then looked away nervously. And Danny waited, knowing there wasn't anything else he could say. What he'd told Martin was the truth, and he was tired of stepping around it or bending it.

Martin paused for a few moments, as if trying to figure out what he wanted to say. Finally, he met Danny's gaze again, blue eyes filled with a helpless sort of confusion. "So do I," he answered softly, his voice trembling. "But I don't...I don't know how to…we have so much to figure out and…Danny…"

His words were jumbled, broken and Danny could hear so much confusion in his voice. That's why the sensible thing would be to talk, to force Martin to tell him what he was feeling, to discuss all of their baggage and past mistakes before jumping into something new. But they were here now, together, lying in each other's arms…and it was so much easier to just ignore it all.

Danny wasn't sure who started their next kiss, but it was so _easy_. So easy the way they came together, touching each other carefully yet also with a desperate sort of need that had been there for far too long. Things became heated quickly, those same touches growing in need, searching out skin as they sipped and tasted each other's mouths.

Time seemed to stand still as they let go, continuing to kiss and touch and _want_ each other. Danny lost all concept of calculated time in Martin's arms and when they finally broke apart for a few minutes he had no idea how much of it had passed. They were pressed together tightly, legs tangled, shirts tugged partially off, jeans unbuttoned, sweatpants pulled down partway. Martin's arms were on his back, hands pressed hotly against his skin; Danny held him tightly, one arm around his waist, the other buried in his hair. Their eyes were glazed, their lips red, wet and swollen, their skin flushed…

All in all…disheveled. Deliciously on their way to being…debauched even.

But despite it all, Danny had to stop. More than anything he wanted to ignore their unspoken problems, sweep them under the rug and continue with _now_. Martin, he knew, was pliant and willing and even though he had his own misgivings, Danny knew if he asked that Martin would say yes. But he didn't want their first time to be tainted with all the looming questions that still hung between them.

"Danny…" Martin whispered, fingers pressing against his back, his lips gentle as they kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Martin…we have to stop," Danny responded softly, his hand gently cupping Martin's cheek. He kissed him again, contrasting his own words as he moaned into Martin's mouth, still not tired of the way he kissed, the way he tasted. He didn't think he ever would be.

Martin whimpered his protest against Danny's lips, shaking his head slightly and kissing the underside of his chin and slowly down his throat. He pulled Danny closer and pressed their hips together sinuously.

The heat between them was incredible and Danny almost lost his nerve. In all the countless times he'd let himself fantasize about Martin and what it would be like to kiss and touch him, none of it had ever felt like this. It had never been this good. And, unfortunately, it had never been tinged by uncertainty.

"I want you," he whispered, both hands on Martin's face now, looking into his eyes, separating their bodies just slightly. "I want you _so much_ Fitz. So much that I _ache_ for you. But not like this…not when there's so much we need to talk about first," he pleaded. "I don't want this to be a mistake…a regret."

Martin watched him carefully, blue eyes not letting him look away for a few minutes. And Danny could see him trying to protest, to come up with the words that would convince Danny that if they had sex now it wouldn't be a mistake or a regret or something they'd want to forget. But finally, he relented, eyes closing over a resigned sadness.

"You're right," he murmured in response. He cuddled closer to Danny then, burying his face against his neck and sighing softly. Effectively, he wrapped himself so completely around him that Danny began to wonder which limbs were his. "But don't go," Martin added suddenly, voice slightly fearful as he pulled back just enough to look into Danny's eyes. "Stay with me like this…please."

Danny nodded in response, too afraid his voice would break if he tried to answer. He kissed Martin softly again, willing his body not to react, not to want so much right now. And when they finally settled comfortably against each other, he decided that they had to stop putting it off. They had to talk…about everything.

He could only hope it turned out for the best.

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Martin**

Martin woke to a kiss on the forehead. Blinking as his eyes fought to adjust to the dim light on the nightstand, he grumbled incoherently and burrowed down further into the bed.

"Shh…go back to sleep," Danny whispered, his breath warm against Martin's skin as his lips brushed his temple. "I got a call from Jack…I have to go in."

Martin whimpered in protest, his arms still sluggish with sleep as he reached out to keep Danny close. Opening his eyes more fully, he looked up at Danny and shook his head, fully aware that he was pouting.

Danny sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled, running his fingers over Martin's cheek and neck. "Don't pout," he murmured, leaning down to kiss him, lingering over his lips softly. "I'll try to be home as soon as I can, okay?"

Martin sighed and nodded as Danny stood up. "Okay…be careful." He looked up and met Danny's eyes again, watching something indescribable flicker there for just a moment. He leaned down once more and pressed a quick kiss to Martin's lips, murmured goodbye and left.

Even though he was still plenty tired – had been ever since he'd come home from the hospital – he couldn't go back to sleep now that Danny had left. He lay in bed for a while though, just staring off into nothing and thinking. As much as he wished Danny were still here in bed with him, he was thankful for the time alone.

Last night, he'd been prepared to let go, to forget and to give Danny whatever it was that he wanted. But, in spite of Martin doing his best to push them both, what Danny had wanted was to talk. He knew that with certainty despite the fact that he'd never actually said it. On one hand Martin saw the wisdom in waiting, because they had a lot of baggage that needed sorting before they could hope to grasp onto something real and healthy. Something that would last. But on the other…he just wanted to ignore it all. They'd been doing that pretty well so far, ever since Martin had asked Danny to stay with him when he left the hospital. Talking meant asking questions he wasn't sure he still wanted answers to. And it would be painful.

However, he knew, regardless of the blissful ignorance he might still wish for, that he couldn't run anymore. At first he'd pushed Danny away out of hurt and anger…and they'd gone months without talking. That hadn't been good for Martin. Despite the obvious, it had also left him depressed and hurting. Now that they'd formed an unspoken truce, it was peaceful, it was working…but he also knew it was empty. Deep down, Martin still wanted to know why. Why Danny had abandoned him after he'd gotten shot. He was afraid of the answers, afraid of what he might hear, but he had to know. Even now, there was a sliver of uncertainty in his heart…a thought he kept buried deep because he didn't want to believe it. Danny had left him alone and broken after the shooting. Was he only here _now_ out of guilt? Trying to make up for past mistakes? He'd effectively hidden those feelings deep in his mind, but now that the prospect of talking was so immediate they crept back to the forefront with a vengeance.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head as he stood up and made the bed. He refused to believe that, especially after last night. There had been no pity in Danny's touch. Whatever it was they were trying to cultivate, Danny wanted it too, that Martin truly believed.

Stepping into the shower, he let the warm water wash over him for a long time, drifting in his thoughts, trying not to _over_ think everything. He spent the rest of the day in motion, cleaning, organizing his bookshelf, his DVD's and CD's, putting older, unused clothes into bags to take to Goodwill. Anything to keep busy. All the while, he kept thinking of what they needed to talk about. And as the hours crept on, the more nervous he became because he knew they had to do it tonight. They could put it off, but Martin was certain this was the best opportunity.

He couldn't remember a day that had moved more slowly, and through all of his cleaning and organizing he checked the clock continuously, swearing at one point that it was going backwards instead of forward. But with the slowly moving hours also came worry. It was past seven, past eight, nearing nine-thirty when his phone finally rang.

He answered it eagerly, his voice sounding a little too high-strung for his liking. "Danny?"

"Yeah, it's me…sorry it's so late, we just…I'm on my way. I'll be there in about ten minutes." He paused and Martin could hear a resigned sort of weariness in his voice. "Are you okay? You sound…nervous," he commented softly.

Martin blushed and shut his eyes. "Fine, I was just…worried," he trailed off on the last word, embarrassed.

"I'll be home soon," Danny repeated, his voice ringing with relief.

Frowning, Martin said goodbye as they both hung up. The relief threw him for a minute and he sat still for a few minutes, thinking. When he realized the cause of the emotions he stood up quickly, knocking the book he'd been unable to concentrate on to the floor. Staring straight ahead he wrapped his arms around himself and didn't move, too shocked to do anything but stand there.

Ten minutes later that was how Danny found him. "Martin?" His voice was worried, frantic, and his fingers shook as they pulled Martin's arms away from his chest, hands coming up to cup his face. "What's the matter?" he asked, voice nearly trembling with worry.

But Martin only shook his head, a wide smile forming on his lips and he couldn't help laughing as he threw his arms around Danny's neck and held him tightly. "All day Danny," he whispered, unable to stop grinning.

Danny pulled back from his embrace quickly, his eyes still full of concern and confusion. "Martin…what are you talking about? All day what?"

Martin kept smiling, his arms still tight around Danny's back, keeping them close. "All day long…I was here by myself all day…and I didn't think about pain pills once. Not one time," he said proudly. "Not until I was on the phone with you and you sounded relieved…and I realized you must've thought I was I don't know using…that I'd unearthed some stash or something because I sounded nervous," he explained breathlessly. "But I was nervous because you weren't home yet and…well, then I realized Danny, that I hadn't spent the day sitting here thinking about where I could get more pills or how much better I'd feel if I had just one. All day," he repeated, still not quite able to believe it.

Danny's eyes had changed from worry to relief to pride mixed with something deeper that made Martin _want_ more. So much more. Danny ran his hands down Martin's arms and linked their fingers together, smiling as their eyes held. He didn't say anything, but Martin already knew what the words might have been; he could read it in Danny's expression.

Reluctantly Martin let him go for a few minutes so he could shower and change clothes. He sat on the couch, waiting, still caught in his bubble of pride and happiness for what he'd done. Of course at the same time, he was also nervously anticipating what he knew Danny wanted to talk about, but he felt much more confident and ready for it than he had been just this morning.

Danny's eyes were tired when he came into the living room though, and he sat down next to Martin with a weary sigh, turning towards him with a look of helplessness that Martin wasn't expecting. All too quickly though, he understood. "Bad case," he stated rather than asked because he already knew the answer.

Danny only nodded and Martin reached for him without another word, pulling him close and holding him as tightly as he could manage. Danny's body trembled just a little as he burrowed into Martin's embrace, pressing his face against his neck, hands gripping tightly to his sides. "Do you want to tell me?" Martin asked, not surprised when he felt Danny shake his head. He wasn't offended, wasn't worried that Danny was closing himself off; he knew all too well what this felt like. Knew that no matter the details of the case, the feeling of failure was still the same. So he went on holding him, running his hands up and down his back, through his hair, keeping him close. They stayed together like that on the couch for a long time, shifting occasionally when a muscle would fall asleep. Didn't matter who was holding whom just as long as they stayed close.

"Why didn't you come see me after I got shot?" Martin asked softly against Danny's neck. He hadn't meant to say the words, not now…they'd come out before he'd even realized what he was saying. Nervous now, he stiffened against Danny's still-gentle embrace, pulling back slightly and swallowing hard as he looked into his dark eyes.

In spite of his calm appearance, Martin could feel the nervous-energy rolling off of Danny in waves. He reached out gently and pressed his palm to Danny's cheek, shaking his head apologetically. "We don't have to do this now," he whispered.

"Stop," Danny said quickly, his hand coming up to cover Martin's own. He pulled it away from his face and squeezed his fingers tightly. "There's never going to be a perfect time…and we have to do this. I _want_ to do this, because I can't stand all these secrets between us anymore."

Martin nodded silently, looking down at their hands, still clasped tightly together. He didn't know how to ask everything that he was desperate to know. "Why didn't you come and see me?" he repeated, sticking with the same question, as it was the root of the problem.

Danny exhaled shakily, his thumb moving slowly over Martin's palm. "Look at me please Fitz," he murmured. Martin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath before he looked up and met Danny's gaze, waiting desperately for his next words. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was selfish. And I don't have a better explanation than that. I was selfish and concerned only with how _I_ felt," he went on, his voice full of a bitter regret.

"How did you feel?" Martin asked hoarsely. His breathing was shallow, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Danny's expression, Danny's entire body was so remorseful and sad and…angry, that it made Martin reach for him. He found he wasn't at all surprised when Danny struggled against his embrace, but Martin held fast, waiting, settling them into a tangled hold of limbs and sorrow.

"Guilty," Danny finally answered softly, looking up to meet Martin's eyes again, though they flitted away quickly, nervously. "Angry…terrified…Martin, I didn't know what to do," he cried, sounding so close to breaking. He paused for a few minutes, breathing deeply and refusing to meet Martin's saddened stare.

When he finally looked up again, Martin bit his lower lip, felt his heart ache for all the hurt he saw in Danny's brown eyes. He moved closer and kissed him softly, murmuring his name and the promise that whatever it was, it would be okay, something he knew he probably couldn't keep but wanted to desperately for Danny's sake.

"It wasn't your fault," Martin whispered against his lips. "They told me that you saved me…that you stayed with me and kept me from bleeding out. I…_remember_ Danny," he finished very softly.

"What do you remember?" Danny asked, a sharp almost hysterical edge to his trembling voice. His fingers squeezed Martin's upper arms firmly, his own body strung tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

Martin shook his head anxiously. He'd never told anyone these thoughts, had never even let himself relive them very much, lest he be drawn too far in and not be able to find his way out. They were nightmarish after all. "You…your hands on me…pressing against me…rain in your hair. Your voice," he spoke softly, voice shaking as he stuttered over the words. He looked up again and suddenly found himself smiling. "I don't…don't remember very much very clearly, but I know you said that…if I died you'd fucking kill me." He raised an eyebrow curiously and bit his lower lip as he fought off a smile. It was easier – for the first time in _so_ long – to smile than it was to cry.

But Danny was still wide-eyed and upset, only a glint of amusement passing through his eyes before it was gone. "You smiled," he whispered.

"What?"

"When I said that you…you smiled at me and then…you stopped breathing," he answered in a soft, strangely calm voice. And it broke Martin's heart.

He could feel Danny trembling, could see how close he was to breaking, and suddenly he found himself understanding. He pictured himself, for just a moment, in Danny's position. He'd done this before of course, but always with cynicism and self-righteousness clouding his thoughts. He'd convinced himself that had things gone the other way, he would've been a constant presence at Danny's bedside. That he wouldn't have left; that he would've been there for him, for whatever he needed, always. But now, he finally saw the other side. He couldn't imagine having to watch Danny nearly die. Of having his life slip away beneath his fingers. He couldn't say what it would've done to him. Honestly, despite what he might like to think he would've done had their positions been reversed, he really had no idea. He realized that now for the first time and any lingering animosity he'd held towards Danny simply vanished.

"It hurt so much Fitz," Danny went on, his voice shaking softly, his eyes bright with tears. "Even after I knew you were going to be okay. I couldn't stop feeling guilty. Couldn't stop being scared. And I stayed away because I couldn't deal with it. Any of it. Coming so close to losing you…I just couldn't do it. And I'm sorry Martin," he whispered, tears spilling over his lashes now and onto his cheeks. "Because when you came back to work, when you looked at me…I knew what a damn fool I'd been. I'd only cared about myself. About the fact that _I_ couldn't face seeing you because I felt guilty and scared and so fucking shaken up. But _you_ were the one who'd been shot and nearly died…and I didn't see that, didn't figure that out until it was too late…" he explained softly, a pleading tone to his voice.

"Danny…"

"And I couldn't find a way to explain it to you then. That night I came to your apartment…I think I was hoping to just apologize and we'd move on. I didn't mean to hurt you even more…I just couldn't leave. I knew it was a mistake to kiss you, to make you think it was nothing more than pity when it was so much more…"

"Danny," Martin repeated, his voice louder this time, snapping Danny out of his broken, stumbling apology. He leaned forward and cupped Danny's face between his hands, his thumbs moving slowly over his cheeks. "I understand now. I do," he said solemnly, nodding his head when Danny shook his, knowing the other man wouldn't believe him that easily.

Predictably, Danny shook his head, but Martin pulled him closer, pressing his thumb to Danny's lips to stop his argument. Unable to find the words that would convince the other man of his sincerity, he kissed him instead, fingers moving gently against his cheeks. Danny trembled, whimpering under Martin's touch, his eyes falling shut, pressing tears past his eyelashes and onto his cheeks, something Martin brushed away with his fingertips. Explanations, regrets, apologies…none of them made as much sense as this did. Martin sighed as Danny opened his mouth, their tongues touching, tangling as they relaxed into an easy, loving embrace, a kiss that made all the difference.

"I love you," Danny said softly. Their kiss had barely broken, his lips brushing Martin's as he spoke, his brown eyes fluttering open to meet blue ones.

Martin swallowed hard, still tasting Danny on his lips, his tongue, not moving away from him an inch as he looked into his eyes, absorbing his words. His heart fluttered and he couldn't catch his breath, but it was the first time in so many months that everything suddenly seemed right. He didn't say it back, not quite yet, and not because he didn't feel the same. He did. But the words simply wouldn't come, his throat too tight with emotion. Overwhelmed, he kissed Danny again for just a moment, breaking away when he couldn't stop himself from laughing – nearly giggling – happily. Danny touched his cheek, eyes softening as Martin simply nodded and blushed before leaning forward to bury his face against the other man's neck.

And then softly, he found his voice and pressed himself closer, losing the thought of anything else except for Danny's arms around him. "Me too."

Fin


End file.
